Choosing to Be
by TayNeyNey
Summary: It is Ginny Weasley's sixth year at Hogwarts, and it is not going at all like she imagined. Death Eaters invade the halls, Harry Ron and Hermoine are gone, and the students are barely holding on under the new regime. And to top it all off, a certain Slytherin stares at her everyday. What does it mean, and what does he want?
1. Staring

He was staring at her again. Ginny could _feel _it. It was his eyes – always and only his – burning into her skin.

Ginny was used to being stared at, whether the cause was her stay in the chamber of secrets, her presence at the Yule Ball with Neville Longbottom, or lest anyone forget, her brief stint as Harry Potter's girlfriend. The staring was nothing new, but the person staring, well that was entirely new.

He stared all the time, his eyes causing her skin to prickle, her shoulders to stiffen, her body to shudder. She could not say it was unpleasant, the sensation of his eyes, but that ambiguity only made his stare all the more distressing.

It unnerved her. _He _unnerved her.

Perhaps it was the color of his eyes, Ginny mused to herself as she sat rigidly in her Dark Arts class. Despite the two months that those eyes had continued to stare at her every day at every chance, she had been unable to find a color that described them fully. Most called them gray but that was inadequate. His eyes were pure silver, as cold as his father's heart. The rumors whispered that his heart was even colder. What was that Luna called him, an icy snake?

A sudden errant giggle escaped Ginny's mouth, and her hand flew up to clamp over the noise but she was too late. As though she had shouted something obscene silence blanketed outward through the classroom with her desk in the dead center.

"Ginevra Weasley," the voice slid over the silent crowd in nasally excellence, as slimy as the man behind it. "Is something funny?"

Ginny almost sighed as she met the eyes of Amycus Carrow. Though his beady eyes were trained on her now, with all the gleeful malice he reserved for Gryffindors alone, she barely flinched. It was becoming tiresome, standing up to the Carrow dimwits, the dungeon trips almost not worth it, but Ginny could still remember the look of hope in the younger students whenever she spoke up. She could see clearly in her mind the courage of the other older students as they stood beside her day after day.

So she stuck on a charming smile, aware of the gray eyes still burning into her shoulder, and sweetly replied, "You mean other than your attempts at teaching?"

The requisite laughter split the classroom, nervous sounding but still there and gratitude swelled in Ginny's breast. It had been two months but they were still kicking, still alive under these monsters.

Amycus, however, was not nearly as amused. A nasty grin split his face as he fingered his wand, and Ginny briefly wondered with a small pit of fear in her gut whether she would receive her punishment here, in front of everyone. It would not be the first time she had been Crucio'd this year, but to do it in front of the entire class, that could demoralize them. What would happen to Hogwarts if they all just gave up? It was bleak enough these days.

Carrow raised his wand and the class fell silent as though he had already cast a curse. Ginny refused to flinch but instead straightened her back, inching further forward on her seat, body tensed but ready. She was powerless to truly fight back, but her blood called her forward as though she could.

Amycus considered her in the silence for a moment, and then slowly, lowered his wand slightly. Ginny wanted to deflate, but she made sure to retain her stance, even as he spoke.

"Hilarious Miss Weasley," his lips pulled up into a snarl, "Funny enough to earn you and your traitorous blood two hours of detention. Tonight."

It was not the worst punishment Ginny had received. Not by far. But two hours in the dungeons was hardly what she would call a good time. Even if Filch was in charge again this time, what with his soft spot for her, Ginny would not enjoy it.

So she said nothing but continued to stare blankly at Amycus. She could handle two hours, of course she could. She was Ginny Weasley, and, along with Neville and Luna, the school was relying on her. Flexing her fists to still the shaking of her hands only came naturally to Ginny as she continued to meet Amycus's eyes.

Amycus's mouth turned down as she continued to not react, clearly off put by her blank stare, and Ginny felt like cheering because of it.

That was until his eyes slide three feet over and a few feet back.

_No no no no no no, _Ginny chanted in her mind, hands suddenly gripping the desk's edges as her heart beat a staccato rhythm. She knew who sat in the desk behind her shoulder – the person who continuously stared at her these days. And apparently Ginny was not the only one to notice.

"Mister Malfoy will oversee your detention." Amycus's grin was the echo of Voldemort's as he turned to see Ginny's reaction, and despite herself, Ginny could barely hide the tremor rocking through her. Satisfied, Amycus returned to the board and continued his lecture.

But Ginny did not move a muscle, ignoring the sympathetic looks being shot her way.

Of course he would be the one assigned to her. Of course Amycus had noticed his staring, nearly everyone had. Of course, this would be her torture. And Ginny could not lie, she was frightened.

She had heard the rumors about him, of course. The rumors flew all over school. He was the worst to oversee a detention, the easiest to snap, the quickest to Crucio. And it was entirely believable. After all, Draco Malfoy was the one who had let the Death Eaters into this school.

His gray eyes were still focused on her shoulder, having given no acknowledgement that he had even heard Carrow. But he would be there tonight, staring. Ginny almost wanted to turn around and shout at him, demand to know why he stared, as she had wanted to do for the past two months. But she refused, as she had refused for the past two months.

Whatever Malfoy intended with his stare – the one Ginny could recognize almost quicker than his face these days – he would get nothing from her. Not a look, not a flinch, not even a turn. Even if she was afraid, she would never give him the satisfaction.

Ginny would be damned if Malfoy intimidated her, and tonight, she would finally confront him.

As though hearing the absolutism in her thoughts, Malfoy's eyes turned away and the pressure of his stare finally left. Ginny relaxed, but she did not forget. She would deal with this tonight.

(A/N: Hello again! Yes I am writing a new story, but I make no promises with this one. I usually am good at updating regularly, but I'm at college now and I don't write nearly so much. So yes, it will be completed, but I have no schedule for the updates. Bear with me, and thanks for reading!)


	2. To the Dungeon

"I don't think you should go."

Ginny nearly snorted but held it back out of respect for Neville. They were seated around a table, off in the back corner of the common room where younger students couldn't overhear. "Well I don't want to go," she replied, playing absently with her quill and completely disregarding the homework in front of her. She had wanted to go talk to Luna about this but interhouse conversation was so strictly guarded it would be next to impossible. So she had foolishly told Neville – foolishly because the kind boy was so overprotective. His face had nearly drained of color when she had told him of her detention.

"Ginny stop joking," he worried his bottom lip between his teeth and Ginny sighed. Neville looked tired. He probably had not slept well in weeks, if Ginny was being honest. She had been shocked when upon the apparent absence of the Golden Trio, Neville had stepped up to face off against the Death Eaters. She shouldn't have been.

Neville was perhaps the bravest person she knew, including Harry, and he was born to lead, even if he never realized it. It was he who had first stood up to the Carrows; he who had received the first detention; he who had given the speech about fighting back upon his return, bloody and beaten but still standing. He was truly in charge of the feeble resistance they were leading here, more so than her or Luna. And it showed.

Dark rings circled his eyes, and his skin was alarmingly pale. It sent a pang of guilt through Ginny. "I mean it, Ginny," he rambled on, eyes glazing over as he undoubtedly went to his own dark memories of time spent in the dungeon. "It's one thing letting you and Luna face off against Crabbe and Goyle, but Malfoy…"

"Neville," she sat forward and waved a hand in front of his face to draw his attention back to the here and now. His eyes focused quickly on her face and he smiled half-heartedly, no doubt at the serious expression crossing Ginny's face. "I know you want to protect me and Luna, especially Luna, but we know what we're doing."

Neville blushed and shook his head. "But Malfoy…"

"Is a right git, just as he's always been," Ginny sighed and sat back, folding her arms across her chest. "I can handle him Neville. And even if I couldn't, I would have to. Detention isn't optional."

"Maybe we could grab some Polyjuice from Luna. She just made a new batch today. Then I could take it and…"

But Ginny was already shaking her head, half amused and half frightened. "No Neville, you know we couldn't. I have detention before dinner, so there's no way to even meet up with Luna without sneaking around, which is an unnecessary risk. And I wouldn't let you go in my place, besides. Didn't you just serve a detention yesterday?" The last was a rhetorical question. Ginny could see the fresh cut decorating Neville's brow, and she was sure that wasn't the only physical mark, and it surely wasn't the only harm done to him. The Cruciatus curse left marks unseen but not unfelt.

Neville waved his hand dismissively. "That was just an hour with Goyle, bumbling idiot that one. I could handle four hours with him, wand or no wand." Ginny smiled, knowing Neville to be right, but she sobered when his face dropped and his eyes hardened. "But Malfoy, Gin," Neville sat forward, hands coming up to clasp under his chin as his lips turned down in a frown, "I couldn't even take ten minutes with him. His mind…it's dark, Gin."

Ginny repressed a shudder, though she too remembered well Neville's one and only detention with Malfoy. He'd been left unconscious in the dungeon, only discovered because Filch had reported it to Ginny. That had been the first and last time Malfoy had been assigned detention duty – until Ginny's performance this afternoon.

She sighed and leaned forward once more to grasp Neville's hands and squeeze them. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared Neville," Ginny kept her eyes focused on his, hoping to convey her seriousness on the subject, her complete honesty here. "But I have to go, and I won't let anyone go in my place."

Neville sighed, though he gripped her hands right back. "Of course you won't. Bloody Weasley, too noble the lot of you."

Ginny grinned, thinking of her brothers, all running about being foolishly courageous. She wouldn't have it any other way.

"Just be careful alright? And maybe he'll go easy on you, being a girl and all."

Ginny highly doubted that, but at seeing the fear still in Neville's eyes, she did not voice her thoughts. Instead she put on a joking air and teased, "Maybe I'll go easy on him, being a ferret and all."

Neville laughed and released her hands. He glanced at the clock and then back at Ginny, looking suddenly sheepish.

"Go," Ginny answered his unasked question, knowing Neville wanted to lead the Gryffindors down to dinner. "I can walk myself."

"Be strong Ginny." Neville stood, ruffling Ginny's hair once as he walked by.

"Tell Luna hi for me," Ginny called after him, knowing that Neville would find a way to talk to the Ravenclaw. He always did.

Neville smiled in reply, blushing again slightly, and then followed the crowd of students out of the porthole. They were all gone soon enough, dinner being mandatory these days, and the clock rang out five to six like a warning to the empty common room.

Ginny wanted to ignore it, her bravado failing her now that Neville was gone.

The first time she had ever experienced the Cruciatus curse was still scalded onto her mind, an unforgettable memory for all the worst reasons. It was during her first detention and no doubt weaker than average as Crabbe had been the one to cast it. But it had still hurt. She hadn't screamed, refusing with pure stubborn will, but she had almost wanted to.

And she knew it got worse.

Neville had gone unconscious under Malfoy's wand, and Neville was strong, good at resisting the curse after having undergone it so many times these past months. But Malfoy was dark.

It wasn't so much that he had become dark as the darkness around him had finally surrounded him completely, Ginny thought. She and darkness were intimately acquainted, and secretly, Ginny had always thought Malfoy wasn't truly dark. He was a coward, and he was persuadable, easily influenced by his cold father, but not dark. Not like Voldemort was.

Malfoy had always been relatively harmless, playing pranks and hurting with humiliation. But this year, upon his return, Ginny had _felt _the difference.

He was cold.

Freezing, in fact. Just looking at his empty eyes gave Ginny goosebumps. So empty, all of him, like the life had left, and black smoke had filled the gaping cavity of his body. He ran on automatic, never expressing anything and always thinking. Not like he was evil, but like he wasn't even here. He was just gone.

But Ginny had yet to express these thoughts to anyone, not even Luna. It sounded crazy, she knew, and only someone who had seen what true darkness looked like, what a person who was pure evil felt like inside, would understand. Maybe Harry, if he was here, but he was not, and so Ginny just listened as Neville and Luna expressed their worries.

They thought Malfoy was the worst of the bunch, and maybe he was. He had killed Dumbledore. He had let Death Eaters into the school. He had been branded with the Dark Mark. But he wasn't malicious like Ginny had thought he would be. He was surrounded by darkness and evil, but he was frozen to it.

And she had no idea if that was better or worse for her.

Absently, Ginny stood, mind still wrapped up in Draco Malfoy. She made her way through the common room, glancing back only once at the empty common room. It wasn't until she was halfway to the dungeons that she realized what she was doing.

And that was when the fear struck.

She paused, unable to help it, even though the clock was against her. She had to be there by six, and being late was suicidal, but she could not force her feet forward. Not right at that moment, not with ideas of Malfoy's cold brutality floating around in her head.

Whatever moron said that brave people felt no fear had clearly never been a brave person. Ginny was brave, of course she was. She was a Weasley and a Gryffindor. But she was afraid now. What if Neville was right and Malfoy was as dark as his father? Could she really survive such close contact with another person dark as pitch?

The very thought sent a tremor through her hands, and like a key turning in a lock, a wall slid forward and solidly clicked shut, severing those thoughts off and burying them. The fear stopped and the shaking, and it was gone. All of her negative thoughts and fears and feelings, like they had never been there to begin with.

It was a skill Ginny had mastered quickly after her first year, how to completely ignore thoughts that she did not wish to think. And she did it now in a matter of moments.

The wall held firm and Ginny did not spare another thought to Malfoy or torture or darkness.

Instead, she straightened her back and walked purposefully forward, off to the dungeon for the punishment she did not deserve but that she would take. Off to be like Neville. Off to be brave. Off to be a Gryffindor.


	3. In the Blood

Ginny walked into the dungeon exactly five minutes after six, holding her breath and trying to convince herself that she was not afraid of Malfoy. Her racing heart and sweating palms begged to differ, however, as she entered the vast room and quickly scanned the length of it. She deflated like an old balloon when she saw that the room was empty.

Containing only the usual rubbish it always did, the entrance room was cleaner than Ginny had ever seen it, probably as a result of the more frequent use it received these days. The likes of Malfoy would not dare step into a dusty room, she was sure. Filch must have cleaned it after her last visit, two weeks before if she remembered right.

But all of those thoughts were just a distraction from the one occupying her mind: where in the bloody hell was Malfoy? She had always pegged him for the punctual and prim type, and she had expected an added minute of Crucio for her lateness, at least. And yet, he was nowhere to be found. He would not miss detention, would he? The thought was almost too ludicrous. Malfoy would never pass up a chance to torture a Weasley, not with his history with Ron.

"Ms. Weasley?"

Ginny whipped around so quickly her neck strained and her hand flew up automatically to touch the area twinging in pain. Her hand dropped again, in shock, when she saw who was standing in the doorway.

Filch shifted uncomfortably, his hands wringing in front of his body. "Didn't mean to frighten you," he mumbled, looking cross as ever.

Ginny opened her mouth but was at a loss for what to say. Luckily, just then, Mrs. Norris made her entrance and pranced over to Ginny. Automatically, she crouched to pet the cat. Mrs. Norris purred under the attention, as Ginny began combing through the tangles in her fur, and the sound along with the rhythmic motion restored Ginny to herself. She glanced back up at Filch with a small smile, "It's alright, sir. I was just expecting…" She trailed off.

Filch nodded emphatically. "The young Malfoy. He sent me to inform you that you will be cleaning trophies this evening."

Ginny froze, certain she had misheard the old caretaker. "What?" her mind raced as she stared at the uncomfortable man. He had to be joking, though it was awfully out of character for him. But Filch's face did not budge as he looked back at her. Her mind automatically leapt to the next logical conclusion. This must be a joke of Malfoy's, some psychological trick he had thought of to lure her into a sense of false hope and security. While sounding distinctly paranoid, Ginny could not dismiss the idea either. "What?" she repeated, head spinning.

Filch shifted on his feet again, still uncomfortable, as though he also recognized how ridiculous his words were. "That is what he said," Filch's gravelly voice was particularly gruff as he fumbled over words. "Malfoy said he could not come, and that you were to be given a cleaning task. The trophies were all I could think of that would keep you down here."

"Why couldn't Malfoy come?" Ginny demanded, even as her mind shrieked at her to shut up. This was a blessing; she should not question it. And Ginny certainly felt relief, but more than that, she felt a weird anger. Could Malfoy really not even be bothered to torture her? Was he that removed?

Filch shrugged helplessly. "He did not say."

Ginny shook herself then and stood up, ignoring the yowling Mrs. Norris who still wanted attention. She took pity on Filch, who was clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation. "Where are the trophies then?" she asked, planting her hands on her hips. "I don't want to stay down here for too long."

Filch slumped in relief and scurried off to retrieve the trophies, as promised. Mrs. Norris trotted after him eagerly, leaving Ginny standing in the dungeon room alone.

Malfoy was not coming. She almost had to keep repeating it to herself to believe it. Malfoy was not coming to torture her. Malfoy had passed up the chance, but not only that, he had disobeyed a direct command. Ginny was not sure where Malfoy ranked in the Death Eaters these days, but she was sure he could not just choose to not deliver a punishment. He should have at least sent someone else in his place. It stunk of suspicion and felt like a game, one Ginny was not sure she wanted the answer to.

What exactly was Malfoy playing at with her?

Ginny vowed to find out.

"He didn't show up?" Luna whispered through the shelf, her pursed lips the only thing Ginny could see from the other side.

They were in the library during their free period, which by luck or just chance fell at the same time. Poor Neville did not share that fortune, but Ginny and Luna tried, as often as possible, to meet up. The library was the safest place to meet up, as they could stand on either side of a shelf and converse without making it obvious that was what they were doing. Madame Pince of course knew, but the old bat, for once, kept her nose buried behind her desk. She, like every other Hogwarts teacher, had learned to be silent, but they were not on Snape's side. Ginny was grateful to the woman for her pretended ignorance. She needed these whispered conversations with Luna to keep her sanity, especially this morning.

"No," Ginny whispered, shaking her head as she replaced a book she had been pretending to browse. She pulled another down off the shelf. "He sent Filch to give me a cleaning task instead."

Luna's blue eyes appeared in the crack between shelf and book, wide with surprise. "You didn't get tortured at all?"

Again, Ginny shook her head, chewing on her already torn lip. She had been worrying it all night as she lay in bed, half convinced Malfoy would sweep in while she slept and torture her. That had definitely been paranoid, and yet, Ginny had been unable to relax.

"Most unusual," Luna whispered, eyes going hazy as her thoughts sent her tumbling into the spiral of her own mind. "Perhaps his staring was not as predatorial as I thought."

"What?" Ginny hissed, the image of a large snake rising, unbidden, into her mind. She recognized it, of course, as the Basilisk from the Chamber, but that was ridiculous. The Basilisk was dead, and Draco Malfoy was no massive snake.

Luna snapped back to the present and smiled slightly. "I thought his staring was because he wanted revenge, either on your brother or Harry. Since neither of them returned, he could seek it through you. I imagine both of them would be quite upset to hear of your harm at the hands of Malfoy."

Ginny gaped at her friend. "And why didn't you tell me this when I asked what you thought it meant?"

Luna shrugged. "There seemed to be no point in alarming you."

Ginny simultaneously wanted to strangle Luna and roll her eyes. Instead she drew in a breath and slowly released it, chanting that Malfoy was the one she was angry at, not Luna. And she was undeniably angry with Malfoy, though she had no idea why. It was almost as if she was offended that he considered her unworthy to torture. But that was truly an insane thought.

"Besides," Luna continued, walking further down the aisle and running her finger along the books' spines, "that is clearly not the case, since he did not take the opportunity to harm you. Maybe his staring is about something else. Have you ever interacted with Malfoy?"

Shaking her head, Ginny felt her brow furrow in confusion. "Not outside of trading insults on occasion, but nothing like what Harry and Ron and Hermione used to do. I think I've only spoken to him a handful of times."

Luna hummed, deep in thought again. Ginny let her think, knowing Luna was more likely to figure it out then she was. Luna was bright and insightful, and Ginny was far too consumed with paranoid thoughts to look at the situation straight.

And what a situation it was. Ginny wanted to glance around, feeling the ghost of grey eyes burning into her back. Malfoy's staring had unnerved her, but coupled with his absence last night, it became downright alarming. What did he have planned? Ginny feared a nasty plan, the diary floating through her mind. That had been his father's work, but how could Ginny know if Malfoy did not carry the same nasty streak, or worse?

"Maybe he likes you."

It took a second for the words to process, and then Ginny tripped and nearly toppled into the bookcase. "What?" her voice was too loud, and she watched as Madame Pince had to restrain herself from looking.

Luna sent her a disapproving look. "I said maybe Malfoy fancies you. It would certainly explain the staring, and why he would not want to hurt you."

Ginny could only stare in open-mouthed horror. Had Luna gone completely mad? Malfoy would never fancy a Weasley, never. But besides that, they were not even friends. He had only spoken to her the handful of times, and had never paid her the slightest bit of attention before this hellish year. It was ludicrous, and nauseating.

Luna could clearly tell the avenue of Ginny's thoughts, for the quiet girl giggled slightly and shrugged her thin shoulders. "It is awfully unlikely, but nothing is impossible. Or so they say." She began running her fingers along the spines of the books again, looking at ease. Ginny knew she should similarly try to look busy, or at least try to make it look not completely obvious that she was talking to Luna. But she was frozen to the spot, mind twisting down dark corridors and thrusting paranoid thoughts forward. She only snapped out of it when Luna's bright blue eyes appeared right in front of her again.

"I am sure there is a reason, Ginny," Luna said calmly. "The only trouble is finding out what that is."

Ginny shook her head and felt determination settled along her spine, turning it to steel as she stood up straighter. "Trust me, Luna, I plan to find out." She felt her eyes narrow, and her mind jumped to later that day, when she would see Malfoy in Potions. She would ask him then, demand an answer. She would find a way. She could not continue on, having paranoid thoughts clouding her mind. She needed to know.

Ginny's fingers drummed against the wood of the desk, creating the only noise in the room. Demelza Robins, sitting next to her, gave her a dirty look, clearly not happy with the attention Ginny was drawing. But Ginny could not help it. She was on edge, unhappy, and anxious. Colin similarly kept shooting Ginny looks, but his were full of concern. It only made Ginny more edgy.

"Ms. Weasley," Amycus Carrow narrowed his eyes from where he had crammed his pudgy form behind his desk. "If you continue to tap your fingers against your desk, I will remove them."

Ginny had to restrain herself from flipping him off, gnashing her teeth together and glaring at the man. Demelza sucked in a shocked gasp of air and hastily bowed her head, and Ginny could not blame her. She was acting insane, glaring openly at Carrow, but damn it, she could not help it! Malfoy was sitting at the back of the classroom, had been the entire time, and yet he _had not looked at even once._ It was positively maddening!

Of course, Ginny also realized that what she was feeling was mad. She should be grateful Malfoy had dropped his weird obsession, but she was only further frustrated by it. Malfoy had been assigned to her potions class since the beginning of the year, meant to help Carrow keep control as an older student, and he had stared at her every single day. Except today.

It was too much for Ginny, who now had more questions than answers, and an unhealthy aggression churning in her stomach. She had not even began the assignment in front of her, sure to earn herself another punishment from Carrow.

But that was another thing. Carrow was acting as though he had won. He had observed Ginny walk into his room, and upon seeing her face (Ginny was sure she had looked unsettled) had smiled in victory. The dirty worm was acting as though she had been tortured last night, as though Malfoy had showed up! It made Ginny think that Carrow had no idea. But what was Malfoy thinking, lying to a professor? Why even bother with it all? What was his game?

Ginny dropped her head to her desk in defeat, wanting to beat her forehead against the wood but perfectly aware that action would definitely earn her a punishment, not to mention piss Demelza off even further. She sounded like Harry had his sixth year, obsessed with Malfoy and convinced he was plotting something. Except Malfoy had been planning something then, of course. It made it hard for Ginny to convince herself that she was being irrational.

A breeze ruffled Ginny's hair suddenly and she bolted upright, earning her yet another disapproving look from Demelza. Ginny gave the girl a dirty look of her own, regardless of their previous friendship. She did not care if Demelza wanted to avoid being punished; she was supposed to be a bloody Gryffindor for Merlin's sake.

Ginny turned her attention to glancing around, looking for the source of the breeze that had stirred her hair. She found nothing. No one was up from their seats, and no one was staring at her. Even Colin had returned to his work. She had almost given up, admitted that she was beyond paranoid now, when Ginny glanced down and saw the note.

It was folded up origami-style, and it looked a bit like a bird, which almost made Ginny break into nervous laughter. Had it flown to her, then? She supposed it was possible, magic and all, but who would send her a note in the middle of class? It was certainly risky, and stupid. She glanced around one last time before grabbing the note and unfolding it slowly, flinching every time it made even a bit of noise.

The paper was blank.

Ginny almost chucked it across the room and screamed her frustration. Instead, she bit her bottom lip, gasping when it began bleeding. Hastily, Ginny pressed her fingers to the wound, cursing herself for her habit of chewing on her lip when she was anxious or edgy. She sighed as pulled her bloodied fingers away, glaring at her own blood as though it was offensive. She was completely losing it then, no doubt about it. It was almost disappointing that it had only taken two months for Snape and the Carrows to get to her. It tasted bitter in her mouth.

Ginny grabbed the sheet of paper again, planning on crumpling it up. She almost screamed when writing suddenly appeared on the sheet. Dropping it as though it had caught fire, Ginny saw, with widening eyes, that she had wiped her blood on the paper unintentionally, and that this had caused the writing to appear all at once.

_Do try to act more harmed, Weasley. Unless you want Carrow to know you weren't tortured last night. Then by all means, continue to act like you've committed a murder._

That was all it said, and Ginny blinked down at the note stupidly. It was not even signed. But Ginny knew who it was from, and the knowledge sent a hollow feeling through her stomach.

Draco Malfoy had to have sent the note. He was the only one besides Luna who knew, and the only one she could think of who would also be harmed by the knowledge. What did he think she was going to do though, march up to Carrow and announce that he had skipped the detention? Did he think she was suicidal?

Angrily, Ginny glared at the note, her blood churning and her face warming. She had half a mind to march over to Malfoy and thrust the note into his face. Of course, that was probably exactly what he expected her to do. Ginny had to stop herself from turning around and looking at him, sure that he was not looking at her. But again, that was probably what he expected, and also what he was warning her against.

Bitterly, Ginny admitted that Malfoy had a point. She was acting crazed today, and if she wanted Carrow to believe she had been tortured last night, then she needed to act like it. Ginny didn't much feel like acting weak in front of her enemies, but she did not fancy another detention either. Besides, if she wanted answers, then she needed Malfoy to see that she would keep his secret.

Picking up the note, Ginny studied the handwriting, struck by its familiarity. She could swear she had seen the handwriting before, though she could not place where. It did not make much sense, either, as she thought about it. Where would she have seen Malfoy's writing before? It was not like she had ever had classes with him. Her main interaction with him had been on the quidditch field or in the hallway. Had she glanced his handwriting on a paper?

No answer came forth, though that was hardly a surprise. It was just another question in an endless line of questions. But dye her hair and change her name, Ginny was going to find out the answers if it killed her. And she knew just who to get them from.

She folded up the note and stuck it quickly into her pocket. She would need it later tonight when she confronted him. Malfoy would answer to her. She would make him.

(AN: Hello! Okay so I am so sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I just had multiple ideas bouncing around in my head, and it took me awhile to figure out which one I wanted to go with. However, I am not extremely excited about the direction I decided the story should go in. I won't make promises about when I'll next update, but hopefully, it will be quicker. Thanks for reading!)


	4. The Hallway

Draco Malfoy stood in the quiet hallway, the picture of ease and feeling anything but. It had been stupid of him to miss the detention last night, reckless even. He should not be risking the Carrows' wrath, no matter how idiotic the siblings were. Snape, he had less to fear from, but the Carrows could just as easily go directly to Voldemort. Seeing the Dark Lord again, ever again, was not high on Draco's list of priorities. The _thing _he now called master had been staying with them all summer and all of the year before. Their manor, his home, had become headquarters for a beast preoccupied with blood status to the point of lunacy.

And Draco was sick of it.

Helping the Weasley girl had never been his intention. Despite his disdain for the Dark Lord, he felt no inclination to help those idiots who called themselves the Order. They could all run about and get themselves killed for all he cared, especially the Golden Trio. His nose wrinkled just thinking of them.

But the Weasley girl, well he had never hated her like he hated the others, and yesterday, watching her mouth off to Carrow had amused him. After two months of Snape in charge, Draco had been certain the students would be beaten into submission. Imagine his surprise then when they kept fighting back, especially Weasley Longbottom and that Loony girl. Bloody big-hearted fools, the lot of them. Did they not realize they were fighting a lost cause? What did they even hope to gain by getting themselves sent to detention?

The word made him squirm in discomfort. He had only ever given one detention since the new methods had been put in place. He could still see Longbottom's body on the stone floor. For a moment, Draco had honestly thought he had killed the sod. It angered Draco, thinking of that moment, for it made him feel fear and an uneasiness he was not accustomed to. It brought him back to his previous year of school. He had not meant to hurt Longbottom that bad, but after the spell had left his mouth, his mind had taken over, and it had taken them both somewhere he never expected, somewhere dark.

Like ice, Draco froze those thoughts before he could follow them. He had become withdrawn since last year, asking himself questions he did not want answers to. His mind had become a dark place, he knew it, but he did not want to acknowledge it.

Angrily, Draco dragged his palms down his face, pulling harshly at the skin. It was all ridiculous. He should not be questioning himself. He was Draco Malfoy of House Black, the snake of Slytherin. What should it matter if his mind had become black as a cloudy night? He was supposed to be dark, black as the tattoo on his forearm. He glanced down at his sleeve, covering the ghastly mark though he no longer needed to hide it, and he made a face of disdain.

He had done some horrible things to get that mark, and seen things even more horrible. He had Crucio'd Longbottom. But the idea of torturing Ginny Weasley had made him recoil. He had not been able to force himself to do it, no matter how much he argued with himself. In the end, he had sent Filch in his place to give her a cleaning task, and he had felt better afterwards. That was perhaps the most troubling of all, the sense of relief he had felt knowing that Ginny Weasley would not be tortured.

A sudden noise startled Draco and his eyes leapt up from his arm, scanning the hall as he stepped away from the wall. His hand automatically went to his pocket, grasping the handle of his wand.

"Whose there?" his voice came out as calm as always, but Draco was not quite so calm inside. He had no idea who would be out at this time of night, as he had never run into someone before. Thoughts of run-ins with Snape caused a bitter taste to well up in his mouth. He had not spoken to the new Headmaster since the first week of school, and he rather did not wish to. But only a few people had permission to wander the school at night.

So imagine his surprise when Ginny Weasley stepped out from a niche in the wall and stared at him with blank eyes and a masked face. He simply stared back at her for a moment in silence, his hand falling from his pocket, wandless. He had no idea how she had snuck out of her House, or how long she had been following him. It was rather impressive actually, he admitted as he studied her. She did not move, just kept staring at him blankly. She didn't even look frightened.

Draco couldn't help it, then, he laughed.

Ginny felt blood rush to her face as Malfoy began laughing, unchecked and loudly. It filled her with fear that he was being so loud, ideas of getting caught dancing through her mind. She wanted to hiss at him to shut up but knew that was pointless. Maybe she had overestimated Malfoy, thinking he would not tell on her. Maybe he would turn her in.

Just as she thought it though, his laughter ended. The hallway fell to silence again, and Malfoy looked her up and down. "Well Weasley," he nearly smirked, "I'll admit I never expected to see you here. Do you often walk around, alone, at night?"

"Do you?" Ginny snapped back without much thought. She did not like this Malfoy, this boy who laughed and smirked. She was too used to seeing the icy Draco she saw in Potions every day. This Draco seemed more dangerous than that one had.

"Yes," he shrugged, his smirk dropping. "I walk through the school most nights, though apparently you already knew that." He sent her a quizzical look but he did not look angry.

Ginny blushed, hardly aware of why. It was not a secret that Malfoy wandered the halls at night. Luna had told her after someone from Slytherin had reported it. It was not as though Malfoy was being particularly sneaky about it, but she knew that he was the only one allowed to do so. Every other student was forced to stay in their Houses after dinner until breakfast the next morning.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?" Malfoy demanded suddenly. His face had lost all traces of humor and interest. He had nearly reverted back to the icy mask Ginny saw every day. "I doubt I have to tell you that this is against the rules."

"Why didn't you show up?" Ginny blurted and then nearly wanted to throttle herself. She had no control over her mouth tonight, not that she could really blame herself. She had been following Malfoy for a good thirty minutes before he had stopped walking and paused here. It had taken her another five minutes to work up the nerve to step out, and then Malfoy had still beat her to it. Her nerves were shot.

Malfoy crossed his arms and sighed, leaning back against the wall. "Does it matter? You didn't get tortured. Shouldn't you be thankful?"

"I would never thank a Malfoy," Ginny hissed, stepping forward with her fists clenched.

Malfoy just laughed. "Never say never. I never thought I would turn down hurting a Weasley, and yet, here we are."

_He was mad, completely insane._ Ginny stepped back again, suddenly on edge. Her hand went to her back packet, where she had stowed her wand. She played with the handle but did not draw it, suddenly unsure of her ability to best Malfoy. He was different than she remembered. Before he had always been quick to anger and quicker to insult, now he hardly seemed bothered with her. He looked bored. He looked dangerous.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. "Frightened, Weasley?"

Ginny made no response, clasping her wand handle harder. She would not give him the satisfaction of answering. Whoever this new Malfoy was, he was still an enemy. He had to be.

"Well, you shouldn't be," he continued, casting his eyes skyward to study the ceiling. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have just gone to that detention."

"So why didn't you?" Ginny demanded again, mind buzzing with the need for an answer.

"Why do you care?" Malfoy shot back. He did not sound curious, though, merely as though it was the first thought that had come to mind. He did not even look at her, waiting for an answer.

So it was surprising that Ginny heard herself answering. "You hate my family," she whispered. Malfoy looked at her, alarmed by the level of anger in her voice. "You hate my brother," she continued, voice shaking with sudden rage, "You would kill Harry on sight. You detest Hermione. You let Death Eaters into this school and you killed Dumbledore!"

Malfoy stared at her for a moment in silence, listening as her voice echoed through the hall. She had not meant to yell, but he hardly seemed bothered. He was just staring at her, as he had been doing all year. Finally he opened his mouth and said, "Actually Snape killed Dumbledore, didn't Potter tell you?"

Ginny snapped. Hardly aware of herself, she flew forward and slammed her palms into Malfoy's shoulders, pinning him to the wall as she grasped her wand and jabbed it into his throat. "You let the Death Eaters into the school," she hissed. "Snape may have cast the spell, but you killed Dumbledore."

"Well at least we agree on that," Malfoy gasped, not squirming away from her wand point.

"What?" Ginny felt her eyes widen, though her wand did not slacken.

"I killed Dumbledore," Malfoy replied, his voice still quiet due to her wand pressing on his throat. He made no move to dislodge it or push back at her. He simply let himself be pinned to the wall as he answered her. "I let the damn Death Eaters in, and he died because of me. You think I don't realize that it was my fault?"

"No, I think you don't care!" Ginny snapped back, regaining herself. "You may accept the blame Malfoy, but you are still a monster."

He laughed again, just once as his grey eyes met hers. She could see nothing in his eyes, no fear, no anger, nothing. It was as though he truly was made of ice. "Do you expect an argument from me, Weasley?" He shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint, but I know what I am."

Ginny could only look at him, her sudden anger leaving her as quickly as it had appeared. Again, she was struck with the notion that she did not know this Malfoy. He was hardly the boy she had remembered, hardly the boy she had heard Ron and Harry talk about. Without much more thought, Ginny stepped away and lowered her wand slightly. She stared at Malfoy, heart racing and waiting for him to lunge at her. He did not.

Ginny felt like she was staring at a complete stranger. Her world spun around her, and she felt suddenly sick.

Malfoy merely drew in a deep breath and brushed himself off. "Go back to your dorm, little Weasley, before somebody decides to investigate all the noise we've been making."

"Not until you tell me why you didn't come to detention." Ginny could not say where her determination for answers came from. She just knew she needed to understand. Her entire world had been torn out from under her this school year. She was stumbling around blindfolded here, in Hogwarts, a place she had always loved. She was trying to survive in a game with rules that constantly changed and people who would kill. She had counted on Malfoy being the same, though, even with his staring. If she understood nothing else, she needed to understand him. She just needed it.

"No."

Ginny felt tears of frustration well up in her eyes and she hastily blinked them away, mad at herself for crying so easily. "Why not?" she demanded, voice hoarse. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you Malfoy? Why didn't you torture me? Why have you been staring at me? What do you want?"

Malfoy was growing frustrated, his face coloring slightly. His posture was just as stiff as hers, as they faced off in the hallway. "Stupid little Gryffindor, what does it matter to you?"

"Because it does!" Ginny nearly screamed. She fumbled in her pockets again, coming up with the note and shoving it in Malfoy's face. "Why warn me? Why are you protecting me?"

Malfoy shoved her hand away, glaring at the note he had written. "I wasn't protecting you; I was protecting myself."

Ginny shook her head, at a loss. "I don't believe you."

Malfoy stepped away from the wall and began to walk around her. "Believe what you want. I am done talking to you."

Ginny turned to watch him go, chewing her lip furiously. A clash of emotions raced within her. Anger mixing with fear mixing with a weird longing. She needed answers.

"Malfoy!" she yelled, hand automatically reaching outward as though to physically stop him.

Malfoy spun around and yelled back, "What? Are you completely daft, Weasley? Do you want someone to find you out here? Was one detention this week not enough?"

Ginny ignored him, looking again at the note. When she looked back at him, his eyes were churning with something, though she could not identify what. "I just…" she fumbled with words. "I recognized your handwriting."

Malfoy went perfectly still, as though he had turned into a statue.

"I mean," Ginny continued, trying to study him, trying to figure him out. "I've seen your handwriting before. I can't figure out where, but I know I have."

Malfoy unfroze and shook his head. "You're imagining things, Weasley. Go back to your room before somebody less kind than me finds you."

She wanted to call after him again, but Malfoy was around the corner in moments, and she knew it would be foolish to pursue him. Whatever patience Malfoy had, she had used it all. She could tell by the crack in his armor. For a moment there she had seen emotion in his eyes. She had made him freeze in his spot.

Ginny glanced down at the folded note again and bit her lip. He had lied about the handwriting. She had seen it before, and Draco knew exactly where.

For a long time, Ginny simply stood in the silence of the hallway and stared at the paper, trying to puzzle it all out. Her mind came up blank again and again. It made no sense that Draco would not lie to her about anything except the handwriting. He had even admitted to being responsible for Dumbledore's death. He had avoided answering her questions about his staring and his missing detention. He had only outright lied about the writing.

What was Malfoy hiding from her?

Draco stormed away from the youngest Weasley, his mind a tempest of thought and shattered control. It was ridiculous that she had unnerved him like this. She was just Ginny Weasley, the youngest brat, the girl with the ridiculously colored hair and equally ridiculous crush on Potter. Draco had known her for years, had studied her for years. It was coincidence that she had chosen this year to notice, absolutely pure chance. He had no idea why she could recognize his handwriting. He cast his mind back, counting how many times she would have seen it. He couldn't remember, which was almost equally as maddening.

Stopping, Draco slammed his hands into a wall, relishing the sound of double open-palmed slaps against the hard stone. He had never thought she would recognize his handwriting. It had not even crossed his mind when he had sent her that note, not that he had planned on doing that either. She had just looked so ridiculous, her lip torn and her hair frazzled. It was clear something had been bothering her, but it was also clear that she had not been tortured. Fear for himself had driven Draco to send that note, and it was natural to fear for himself. It was unnatural, however, to fear for her.

He tried again to count how many times she would have seen his handwriting, but again stumbled over the numbers. He wanted to laugh at himself for it. Perhaps he had interacted more with her than he had even thought, and of course, he was going to be punished for that now.

He turned and leaned his head against the wall, being none to gentle as he thwacked his head against it. The one good thing he had ever done in his entire life, his one saving grace, and it was going to cause problems, not only for him, but for her too if she continued to dig.

Draco recalled the way she had looked tonight in the hallway, the various ways in which she had confronted him. Anger made her eyes snap, and even Draco could admire the spirit in her. She had hardly seemed afraid of him. He could still feel the strength with which she had dug her wand into his neck. He had honestly thought she might hex him.

Unconsciously Draco raised his hand and rubbed at the spot.

She was being ridiculous and acting insane. He had noticed it earlier, but it was even more apparent now. Ginny Weasley was a danger to herself and to him, but he had no idea what to do about it. He could ignore her, stop his staring. He had not even realized she had noticed it to begin with. But somehow, Draco knew that would not work. He had seen the stubborn willpower in her eyes, tonight. Ginny Weasley was determined to get her answers, and he had never seen her fail to get what she wanted.

Cursing himself, Draco pushed away from the wall again and went back to his dorm. He needed to think, and he needed to plan. There was no way he was going to let Weasley get himself, and herself while she was at it, in trouble. He just couldn't allow it.

(AN: So it's a rare thing for me to update two days in a row and please don't expect it to keep happening. In case you missed it, yes, I will be switching between Draco and Ginny's points of view, but I think it will continue to mostly be in Ginny's. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon and thanks for reading!)


	5. Friends and Foes

(AN: Woo! Another update. I'm in the writing mood lately and I kind of feel guilty for not updating for two weeks, so here have another chapter! No promises still about when I'll update. It happens when it happens, man. Thanks for reading!)

"Are you sure?" Ginny demanded, pressing the note harder into the girl's hand.

The Ravenclaw girl looked at her with alarm, and Ginny could not blame her. She was acting crazy but this girl, one of Luna's acquaintances, was the fifth student she had asked today. Desperation was beginning to shred her mind.

"No Ginny," the girl shoved the note back, taking a step away from Ginny clearly anxious to escape. "I'm sorry but I've never seen that handwriting before!" She took off, nearly running away in her haste. She had not even looked at the note again.

Ginny sighed and folded the note back up, shoving it into her pocket angrily. Nobody had recognized the handwriting yet, confirming, in Ginny's mind at least, that it was in fact Malfoy's. The night before last, when she had returned to her dorm room, Ginny had felt doubt growing in her mind, gnawing at her stomach. Maybe she had just imagined seeing the handwriting before; maybe it was someone else's handwriting, someone who she knew or saw often enough to recognize their handwriting. It certainly made more sense than her knowing Malfoy's handwriting.

The next morning she had shown both Neville and Luna but neither had been able to identify it, and now five other students had not either. She knew it was Malfoy's, had known the entire time, but she had almost hoped it was similar enough to someone else's, someone's handwriting she would have seen before. She wanted it to be anyone's handwriting, anyone besides Malfoy.

Ginny sighed and began walking to her next class. She would surely get in trouble for lingering in the hallways, and Malfoy's jab about wanting more detention this week echoed through her mind in warning. She effortlessly weaved her way through the crowded halls, her mind distracted. She knew she had seen Malfoy's handwriting before, absolutely knew it, but she could not place where. It made no sense, just as his behavior made no sense.

All day yesterday, Ginny had waited for Malfoy to do _something,_ to give some indication or make some comment, but he had not. He had simply ignored her. In the halls he studiously looked the other way and in Potions he had slept – actually _slept _rather than look at her. It was infuriating. This week had been hellish, and she was glad it was the last day of classes. She needed the weekend to think.

"Hey, Gin," a familiar voice called out.

Ginny glanced over her right shoulder to see Neville loping up to her. He shortened his step as he caught up with her so that they fell into step with one another. "Hey, Neville," she greeted back listlessly.

"No luck with the note then?" Neville's brow creased.

Ginny shook her head, hand itching to pull out the note again, but she resisted. It was already badly creased, if she kept impulsively studying it, it was sure to tear. Besides, Neville had already seen it.

"And you have no idea who sent it to you or what they meant?" Neville's eyes were open and earnest, completely trusting, and Ginny felt the deep burn of guilt at having lied to him. She had lied to Luna as well about the origin of the note, claiming it had just shown up on her desk in Potions and that she had no idea who had sent it or what they meant. While Luna's keen-eyed gaze had looked suspicious, Neville had immediately swallowed the excuse and suggested she ask around. Ginny had, but of course, that had proved futile. She had asked no less than twenty people the day before, and another five just this morning. All replied in the negative, eyeing the message with obvious curiosity.

"No, Neville," Ginny replied, avoiding his eyes. "I already told you, it just appeared on my desk."

"What's it say again?"

Ginny bit her lip. That was the hardest part of asking around, when people asked her what the message meant. It was rather straight forward. _Do try to act more harmed, Weasley. Unless you want Carrow to know you weren't tortured last night. Then by all means, continue to act like you've committed a murder._ It was not exactly easy to explain without admitting that she had not been tortured during her detention. So far she had simply lied when people asked. Of course she had been tortured, it was Malfoy after all. Yes, it had been hellish and terrible, etc.

Most people bought the lies right away, convinced by the long-standing hatred between their families, but a couple had still looked at her warily and then hurried away. If Ginny had been rational she might have tried harder to convince them, but she was far too consumed with the mystery.

Ignoring Neville's question, Ginny changed the subject. "Neville, what exactly happened when Malfoy tortured you?"

Neville's face darkened and he looked straight ahead. "What do you want to know about that for?"

"I'm sorry," Ginny blurted, feeling guilty for making him relive such a terrible memory. "It's just this note, and Malfoy has been acting weird. I just wanted to know if…if you'd noticed anything, that's all." She sounded like she was lying to her own ears, and she winced.

Neville simply stared at her for another moment, and then grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the stream of students. He ducked around a statue, coming to a halt in a wide alcove and releasing Ginny. His arms crossed over his chest and he faced her. "I don't remember too much, Gin," he admitted, shrugging. "I showed up in the dungeon and Malfoy was already there. He didn't even say anything, which I guess was weird. I kind of assumed he would brag, I mean it's Malfoy, right? But he just cast the curse, and then my mind goes blank."

Ginny bit her lip again. "You don't remember what you felt during the curse?"

Neville shifted. "I remember going into a dark place, almost a void really, but it was sharp, as though made of glass. It was painful, just pure pain. Isn't that what you felt?"

"Oh," Ginny quickly nodded, nearly giving herself whiplash. "Ya, that's exactly what it felt like."

"Then what was weird about it?" Neville tilted his head in question.

Searching for something, anything that contained some of the truth, Ginny could not meet Neville's eyes. "Malfoy was late," she finally said. "And, like you said, he didn't gloat. I expected him to gloat." That was honest enough, Malfoy had technically been late and she had expected him to gloat originally.

"Especially with you being a Weasley and all."

Ginny nodded, guilt washing over her again at lying to Neville so much. She didn't want to alarm him, though, by admitting that Malfoy had not showed. She also didn't want to isolate him, make him hate her for not experiencing the same pain he had had to. "That's what I thought, but he didn't say anything. In fact, he hasn't said a word to me since."

Neville frowned but simply shrugged again. "I have no idea what it means Ginny, but we noticed Malfoy wasn't himself almost right away, right? Maybe whatever it is he does is finally getting to him. Maybe Malfoy is just beginning to act more like Snape. Removed, you know?"

Ginny nodded, unable to bear disagreeing with Neville when he was only trying to help her. But Malfoy did not remind her of Snape, not in the least.

Neville seemed to sense her reluctance. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he smiled and said, "Don't let it worry you, Ginny. Whatever Malfoy's deal is, he is one of them, the bad guys. We'll get him; we'll get them all." His smile was so bright, his eyes so confident, that Ginny couldn't help but smile slightly back.

"Sure Neville," she placed her cheek against his hand, squeezing it between her shoulder and her face in a manner that resembled a hug. "We'll make them all pay."

Neville released her, still smiling, and then took two steps back, still looking at her. "Well I have class to get to, can't be late. Will you be alright?"

"Sure," Ginny smiled, forcing brightness into the gesture. "I have McGonagall now anyways. I shouldn't late or else she'll tear into me."

Neville laughed and walked away, yelling "See you later, Gin!" over his shoulder.

Ginny couldn't help the small smile that fell across her face as she watched him make his way through the halls, hurrying to his next class. Neville was truly a wonder, so cheerful and optimistic still. He was a good friend. It just made her feel even guiltier for lying to him about Malfoy and her suspicions, and now she had lied to him again.

Ignoring the growing guilt, Ginny turned to walk in the opposite direction of her next class. She hoped McGonagall would cover for her, almost positive the head of Gryffindor would. Ginny would have to answer questions the next time she saw her head of house, but she just could not sit through another forced class, everyone pretending Hogwarts was the same.

Instead she headed towards the library, hoping Luna would be there by chance.

Draco Malfoy was wandering the halls again, though this time it was the middle of the day. He probably should not be missing class. His father would be irritated if he heard, but Draco did not fear him. Draco did not fear many people these days, not even Snape. Thoughts of his old mentor made Draco's lip curl.

He had trusted Snape immensely when he was younger, perhaps even idolized the Potions Master. During his sixth year he had taken his frustrations and his fears out on the man, but Snape had forgiven him, as much as the man ever forgave anyone. Snape even appeared to like him and had invited Draco into the Headmaster's office the first week of school. Draco had been surprised at the invitation, but had gone. He wished he had not.

Snape had told him a secret that afternoon, a story from his past. Draco could clearly remember his surprise and then his outrage. When Snape had tried to warn Draco about his decisions, Draco had snapped. What he had been doing was not the same. He was not Snape; he was loyal to his family still. Snape had let him go then, but Draco had seen the fear in the man's eyes, fear that Draco would say something. Draco had not, and would never, but Snape's fear of exposure gave Draco a lot of freedom, freedom Draco needed. So he exploited it.

Thinking of Snape always put Draco in a foul mood. It was not that he hated the man for his decisions. In fact, it was just the opposite. Draco could completely understand Snape's actions and his reasons for those actions. And that scared Draco. What he had been doing, his one saving grace, was nothing compared to what Snape had done, but it was still treasonous. Draco had feared his father finding out about his little acts of kindness when he was younger, but now he feared Voldemort. That creature was unstable, and Draco feared what he would do if he caught wind of what Draco had done, had been doing since his third year.

His kindnesses hardly seemed noteworthy, but it did not take much for Voldemort to snap. If Voldemort found out about his interactions with Weasley…

"Draco!" a voice bellowed and interrupted Draco in the middle of his worrisome thought.

Draco turned, unimpressed and not the least bit thrilled to see Crabbe and Goyle ambling towards him. He did not hate the two boys, but that did not mean he enjoyed their company either. They had been decent friends, he supposed, or at least worthy goons, especially during the last year, but more and more this year, Draco was finding he did not have the patience to deal with them. He avoided them on principle.

"Draco what are you doing?" Goyle demanded, grinning stupidly as he and Crabbe stopped a few feet shy of where Draco was standing, his hands in his pockets and his face smoothed into a mask of blankness. "Don't you have class?"

"Don't you two?" Draco replied back, carelessly.

Crabbe grinned. "We're supposed to be monitoring classes right now, but that's a right load of rubbish. Who cares if McGonagall does something? She'll get caught, no doubt. Not like we can punish the old bat anyways."

"Wish we could," Goyle threw in. "I'd certainly like to punish Binns." He cracked his knuckles and grinned.

"Binns is a ghost, idiot," Draco sighed. "You couldn't physically harm him."

"Oh," Goyle appeared stunned at this news and Draco repressed the urge to sigh again. The boy recovered quickly, however, smiling again. "Well, still, it would be fun to be able to curse McGonagall, 'specially during this class. Bunch of Gryffs in there, now. Imagine their stupid little faces." Both of the goons began cracking up.

Draco felt a drop in his gut mixed with a sense of relief. He had not realized, or perhaps had forgotten, that Crabbe monitored Ginny Weasley's class with McGonagall. Even if he had known it before, it hardly seemed important. McGonagall would never let Crabbe do something to her students during class, helpless as the woman was to stop the detentions. Still, the thought now of Crabbe or Goyle anywhere near the youngest Weasley made Draco anxious, and that made him irritated.

"Well this has been fun," he snapped suddenly. "But I really must be going."

He turned and began to walk quite quickly away.

"Where ya going?" Crabbe called after him, sounding confused.

Draco ignored him.

"Wait, Draco," Goyle demanded. "We almost forgot. We heard something."

"What?" Draco yelled back, not stopping in his departure.

"Zabini told us something," Crabbe sounded as though he was struggling to remember the details. "Something about that Weasley bint."

That stopped Draco cold. He almost forgot to breathe as he registered Ginny's name coming out of Crabbe's mouth, and then he had to talk himself out of running back and grabbing Crabbe's robes while demanding answers and shaking him. Crabbe was much larger than him, for one, and it would seem extremely odd. So calmly, Draco turned and surveyed the two. "Oh?" he tried to inject apathy into his voice. "And what did Zabini have to say?"

Goyle shrugged. "He just said she had something of yours and was flashing it around. He said we should warn you."

Draco wanted to throttle Blaise Zabini in that moment. Of course the coward would not tell him directly. Blaise was not known for directness after all, but like most Slytherins, for cunning. He probably thought it was funny giving Crabbe and Goyle this information; information that, if they were smarter, they could use against Draco, and against Ginny Weasley as well.

"What's he mean?" Crabbe asked, looking confused again.

"Nothing of importance," Draco forced himself to look calm, though he itched to race off and find Weasley, and then shake some sense into the damn girl. He had no doubt Blaise was referring to the note with his handwriting on it, a note he had never thought Ginny would be stupid enough to show others. Clearly, he had overestimated the youngest Weasley. "You know how Zabini is, always likes to play games."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded stupidly, grinning like two fools. Draco felt disgust well up in his stomach at the sight. Without another word, he turned again and walked off, his pace quick and his mind thinking of where McGonagall's classroom was.

"What about your class?" one of the two idiots called after him, but Draco ignored them. They would write it off as more odd behavior, not uncommon for Draco these days. He had no doubt that they would soon forget the entire conversation, so long as Blaise did not give them anymore messages. He made a note to find Zabini later and shout at him, but first, Draco needed to find Ginny Weasley.


End file.
